Page 62 of Stuck on the Slopes

“No, but for real, how do you do it?”

“As a Jewish sorority girl, believe me, I’ve been called way worse than a ski bunny.” I began typing, not wasting any time. “I had every antisemitic slur thrown at me at least twice by boys in middle and high school who were learning insults fromCall of Dutylobbies. And not to mention the plethora of frat bros who called me and my sisters ugly whores when we wouldn’t sleep with them.”

“You know, I never understood why guys call us sluts fornothaving sex with them.”

“It’s so dumb, right? Ugh, and then being a woman in corporate, especially once you get a management position like I did? I didn’t believe in Hell until experiencing that. So, as you can probably guess, my skin’s gotten pretty thick.”

“So what’s the plan?” Mia asked.

“We will not address the tabloids directly. That would feed into them, and I don’t want to give them what they want. But what wearegoing to do is make up some bullshit announcement that reminds people that the resort is opening soon and states my title. That will remind people to put some respect on my name.”

Mia clapped her hands together as she tucked her legs beneath her to sit cross-legged. “Oh, I like it.”

“Then, we send it off to the local stations, including LeAnn Weiss at Action 6, and we’ve successfully distracted everyone from the crappy tabloids. I can’t be a ski bunny if I’m the manager, you know?”

Even though we were the same age, Mia said, “I wanna be you when I grow up.”

We both laughed as I started typing. I started with the boilerplate I’d written for The Fox’s Den which listed Juniper Hart as the owner before it briefly detailed the building’s history. Then I worked my way up, including the reminder that the resort would open in about a month’s time.

“Okay, now for the bullshit excuse for why we’re writing,” I said. “Maybe a ‘we’re hiring’ announcement since we still have some open positions? I know the new people start after Christmas, but we still need a few more.”

“There’s so little happening around here that they’ll bite,” Mia said. “Go for it.”

I listed the positions we were hiring for and then included a brief quote from myself, something about how Juniper and I were looking forward to creating new jobs for the community, so I had a reason to sign off with my title.

“See?” I said as I dropped it into an email and hit send. “Easy enough.” At least, I hoped it was.

“Do you think there’s anything else we should do?”

The thought dawned on me now that I’d had time to process it. In the past, I’d put my head down and keep the peace or take charge to prove my worth. But now, I could do more than just that. I could stand up for myself in other ways, too. “One more thing, actually.” I set my laptop down and opted to scroll through my phone, digging deep into my Facebook albums. “I’ve got just the thing to fuck with those paparazzi.”

“Oh, you got all sassy. What’s going on?”

“Here.” I tapped into the photo of me, Ariana, and Michaela dressed in bunny suits for Halloween one year. With my curls and the high-cut legs, I looked like a 1980s dream, especially since the structured leotard cinched my waist and accented my curves. “A little Halloween throwback. What’s today?”

“Thursday.”

“Perfect. I may have forgotten to post on my own Instagram since moving here, so I’m due for a little throwback Thursday action.”

I added four photos from the Halloween party all those years ago to a photo carousel, put #ThrowbackThursday as my caption and nothing else, and then hit send.

Mia clapped for dramatic effect. “Brilliant.”

I grinned. “If they want to call me a bunny, I’ll give them a fucking bunny.”

Even though I texted him to let him know about the press release, I didn’t see Juniper all day. I didn’t see him the next day, either. I kept busy enough, but it was the first time since I’d moved out here that I’d been truly alone. Even before Juniper and I started hanging out together, we’d at least see each other on the weekends, even if it was in passing.

In hopes of ignoring the way it gnawed at me, I tried to work through it. It felt like reverting to old habits, so I made a point of setting an alarm at five o’clock so I could force myself to log off and binge some reality shows. But it didn’t stop the way my finger turned red from twisting my ring, or how short my fingernails had become.

To force myself to do anything else with my hands, which now ached from my fidgeting, I got a head start on Hanukkah baking. Even though I wasn’t hosting any parties, I made enough sufganiyot to feed my father’s whole synagogue. Note to self: deliver some to Nora before Hanukkah rolls around.

I tried to tell myself Juniper needed time, that this wasn’t about me, but the silence was as loud as ever anyway. It wasn’t just the absence of him that hurt, it was the space he’d left behind. Every little reminder of him, every thread that tied him to my life, seemed to mock me like ringing office phones once had. The winter clothes he’d gifted me didn’t compare to his embrace but were the closest thing I had. Sasquatch’s fur lingered on one of my pillows. Logging in to the resort’s social media was enough to flood my mind with nothing but him.

I kept glancing at my phone. Notifications consisted of social media comments for The Fox’s Den and texts from my sisters, but nothing from Juniper. My stomach flipped every time, a flash of hope that soured into disappointment. I hated myself for it. I was a strong woman, stronger than this. My parents raised me better.

But more than anything, I hated not knowing how he was feeling. No matter how many times I texted him, he didn’t respond, and I keep it limited as to not bombard or overwhelm him. The possibilities looped in my head, each worse than the last. Maybe I’d said the wrong thing. Maybe I hadn’t done enough to stop this in my job, and he thought it better if we didn’t blend our personal and professional lives after all. I hoped he wouldn’t throw whatever we had away over some strange press.

Underneath it all, there was this deep ache, raw and tender. It wasn’t just about him ignoring me—it was the suddenness of it, the way he’d gone from being a constant presence in my life to a shadow. I wondered if I’d misjudged everything between us, like I’d been holding snow in my hands without realizing it’d melt.

---